


Do I need to worry?

by orphan_account



Series: Wordplay fics. [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, editor harry, haz is overworked rich hottie, louis thinks haz is creepy, office going louis, thats all - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 19:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15226431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Louis needs to blow bubbles to get rid of his smoking addiction.Harry finds Louis cute and strikes a conversation head on.Louis finds Harry creepy and dangerous.





	Do I need to worry?

**Author's Note:**

> Over the course of every week this fic will keep getting new parts. Todays fic is all about them meeting up.  
> Need: Like its said. An author needs to play god in their story, otherwise there's just loose strings.

It’s been 39 days since Louis last thought about smoking. It’s been 936 hours since he has touched a cigarette. It’s been 56,160 minutes since Louis desired to puff smoke out of his lungs to feel the certain ease the nicotine brings. It’s been 3,369,600 seconds since he promised himself he absolutely doesn’t need a cigarette.  
Is day 40 going to be when he breaks his promise? He sure hopes not. He thinks he can go another day nicotine free. If he blows bubbles, he will feel better. The pipe is the same size as a cigarette, though it’s plastic. The effort in breathing in and blowing out is the same, but in a bubble pipe, the effort is in the awareness of how much you breathe in, how much you blow out, the way your tongue licks around the pipe and how your lips move around it. Blowing out bubbles is a lot more stress-relieving than smoking a cigarette. And the exercise makes you feel better too.  
“Hey!” a voice interrupts Louis’ think-train. He looks up and sees a man standing in front of him looking like a model right out of a Chanel photo shoot.  Clad in a fur-coat and a CK t-shirt with black jeans that look painted over his legs and brown leather, ankle high, Louboutins. Way to be a rich hottie. The next thing he noticed was the man bun and the brown leather bag on his shoulders. The Raybans stood out in the shady day and the mole or beauty-mark, whichever it was very attractive for some reason.  
“Um, hey?” Louis said confusedly.  
“Was that a question?” The man asked.  
“Sorry, I just said what came to my mind. Um, hi, I am Louis, how may I help you?” Louis said.  
“Hi, I am Harry. I was just wondering why a man in a white-collar attire was out here on the library steps blowing bubbles. Soap bubbles.” Harry asked.  
“Oh, I quit smoking. So now this is my past-time. I do this every time I feel the urge to smoke. Have a seat Harry.” Louis offers.  
“Thank you.” Harry sits besides Louis. “That’s a wonderful way to stop the addiction. Anyways why the suit? Had an interview for a job?” Harry asks as he looks for something in his bag.  
Louis snorts but says, “No. Got a job ages ago. Mark & Dayleaf productions. HR Head. Here’s my card.” Louis offers.  
“Hmm. Could you maybe do me a favour?” Harry asks.  
“Sure. What’s it?” Louis says, interestedly.  
“Could you model for me?” Harry says, removing his sunglasses.  
“Model for you, for what exactly?” Louis asked curiously.  
“I want to paint you and maybe photograph you too. You see, I am a, how do I say, an editor? Yeah, the editor for Prism, the support magazine for people who are rejects of society. Addicts, rehabilitated people, people who are LGBTQ+, people with psychological troubles, people with economic problems, people who have suffered abuse, people who have physiological deformities, and such. Here’s my card.” Harry offers.  
“How exactly do I fit in any of these?”  Louis asks.  
“Ex-addict. I can add a small piece on ex-smokers. It’s a rising problem anyways. I just struck up the conversation because you looked cute. Or I could make a story out of this conversation. I mean, it helps if you willingly told me why you started smoking and then why you stopped smoking and how you went about the journey.” Harry explains with his head bent low, knees peeking out of the rips in his jeans.  
Louis notices the beanie in his hand and the exact moment Harry started putting it on his head and then raised his head to reveal eyes sunken inside his sockets and the skin under his eyes darkened entirely. He looked tired and scary. Louis thought he had gotten himself into something weird.  
“You can schedule it for whenever you are free this weekend. No pressure, just that you look like you belong in the collection. Say, contact my secretary for a meet-up and I will have you over to explain how we work?” Harry asks as he pulls on his sunglasses again. Harry gets up when a black SUV parks in front of them. A man in a black suit steps off and greets Harry before opening the door for him and allowing him to get inside.  
Louis looks intimidated; what had he really gotten himself into? Harry stopped the guy from closing the door and says one last time, “would it be convenient for you to bring the bubble pipe when you come?”  
Louis nods sub-consciously, scared out of his wits. What had he really gotten himself into?  
~~~  
Louis went back to work and remained out of his mind for the rest of the day. Luckily, he had no important meetings scheduled nor was there a lot of workload. So he was able to get out by 6 in the evening. He remembered the words clearly, ‘You look like you belong in the collection.’ The thought of what those words meant sent shivers down his spine.  
By the end of the sleepless night, he came to a conclusion, actually 3 conclusions, he couldn’t select a favourite:  
1. Harry was a gangster who killed people and taxidermies the bodies he carefully, surgically cleanses.  
2. Harry was a stalker who had his eyes on Louis and he was about to become one of his victims.  
3. Harry was a pervert who was going to abduct him and make him his sex-slave.  
He couldn’t think of any other reasons why a man who looked like that would say something along the lines of adding him to a collection. Jesus Christ was Louis screwed. He had on top of everything, given the man his card with his personal number.  
In the morning he had dark circles under his eyes, a sudden urge to smoke a pack and to fake his death and leave the country. But instead he drank coffee, showered for work, ate a breakfast roll and got into his car to drive to work.  
Just as he was about to get inside the office building he received a call from an unknown number. With a numb mind and a stuttering heart he picks up the call, cold sweat forming on his forehead, “Hello, this is Louis Tomlinson speaking.”  
“Good morning sir. I am calling from Prism Production House. I believe you agreed to an appointment with Mr. Styles. If you are free this coming Friday evening after 7PM, Mr. Styles would like to meet you.” The woman’s voice said.  
Louis’ fears were being brought to life. The women asked as a question, but he heard the hidden command behind her words, ‘Meet Mr. Styles tomorrow evening at 7.’ Had he any choice but to accept this.  
“Okay, I am free after 7PM. Where does he want the meeting to happen?” Louis says as calmly as possible.  
“Very well, Mr. Styles wants to meet at the foot of the library where he last met you. He has an additional request to make. He asks you to wear a navy blue suit and to not shave. He wants to capture fading night-lights, so I think for the contrast he was going for something he has already envisioned. If you may please do as he asks. He gets upset easily if his artistic demands aren’t met. Have a great day!” And then the line cut off.  
Wow, was he being demanding. With a shuddery sigh Louis got to work.

~~~  
Louis stood at the foot of the library and he looked around to see whether Harry had already arrived or not. In the distance he could see all the city lights looking scenic, like he had never seen before. Reds and yellows and bright neons too. He saw Harry’s car come to a halt and the man got out, long thin limbs and all, this time clad wholly in black.  
“Hey Louis Tomlinson!” Harry said cheerfully. He looked different than usual. The bags under his eyes were nearly gone. He had his hair neatly done in a quiff, he had a clean shaven face and he was looking better than before. He somehow looked even more dangerous though. Harry started walking towards the stairs to get where Louis was already sat.  
Harry took long strides to reach the stairs but then he slipped on the fourth step he took and was about to fall face first but he caught himself in time. And his glove-clad hands touched the stair closest to his face and saved him from hurting himself. Louis got up and ran to his help.  
“Are you alright?” Louis asked.  
“I guess.” Harry says as he sits down and dusts his hands before laughing loudly.  
Louis joins in the laughter. A woman with platinum blonde hair gets down from the car and grabs a bag from behind her and walks up to them. She has a scary resemblance to Harry and looked even more dangerous than Harry.  
“Gemma Styles. Executive Manager. And this idiot’s sister. Haz, you alright?”  
“Yeah Gems. Thanks for grabbing the bag. Let’s get started. First I will take photographs and Adrian will support the lighting.” Harry says, sounding serious.  
“Make-up? Nah, I don’t think this one needs make-up. Pretty, isn’t he? BTW he is wearing what you asked him too. Want me to change his hair? Up or down? Partition or swirls?” Gemma asks. Harry scampers around the venue with a couple more men who stepped out from the car. They had small lighting props in his hand. One of them had cameras and lenses on him.  
“Uh, up, swirls and could you button him up or give him the turtleneck. Check what he looks better in.” Harry comments. Gemma opens the bag she brought with her. She removes a coffee brown Burberry Turtleneck, hand-knit wool. It was extremely fashionable and comfortable. He wore it after he was asked to remove his v-neck he was wearing inside his blazer. Then Gemma made him sit and did his hair. After she was done she gave him a mirror and left without a word.  
“He’s done. Set-up’s done. Let’s start.” Harry said. He grabbed glasses from his over coat and put them on before he grabbed the camera and came towards Louis.  
“Louis, I need you to sit down here and blow your bubbles. Make sure the bubbles splay out right in front of you. And when you blow them look at them with a sad smile. Like a nostalgia of olden days in the park, but instead you are sitting in the city now. There’s noises of traffic instead of children’s laughter and wind whistling between the leaves. Like that.” Harry said when Louis got in position; following every lead he was given.  
He started thinking of the time when he and his mum used to sit down at the green grassy patch behind their house in the eastern village beyond the North Yorkshire County. Only him and his mum, and the wind blowing over them.  
He blew the bubbles with memories flooding into his mind. Days he spent with his mum on the little hill behind their house. The time he almost drowned in the little stream that ran in front of their house. The tyre swing he made with his mum. The picnics he had with his mum. The time she went to the hill in the rain and stood with him and danced together. ‘Everything was so pleasant when mum was here’, the thought comes to him like a thundering blow. He stopped mid-way. The lush green drifting away into a honk and wisp like city lights. Yes, mum wasn’t there anymore. There was nobody there anymore. Oh how it felt to need somebody and not have them there.  
But has he learnt to smile, yes he has. Louis had to learn to smile when his mother went away. Drifted away, withered away, say it in as many ways as you can, she wasn’t there anymore and it was right after she left, the need for her just kept up the fire within him. He needed his mum but she wasn’t there. Not anymore.  
But Louis had learnt to smile, with the memories he had of her.  
“That’s it. We are done here. You can pack it up guys.” Harry’s voice broke Louis out of the state he went to.  
“You took the pictures?” Louis asked. Not once did he hear the camera’s shutter, nor did he have a blinding flash on his face, when did he take pictures then?  
“Yeah, 45 of them. I’ll select the one I want to use and I’ll send you a couple too. For now, I think we should take a walk. How about dinner?” Harry asks.  
“Yeah, I eat dinner.” Louis said.

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Need".  To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/need/works), and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works) or find the masterpost for this year’s challenge here.


End file.
